Two Halves of a Whole
by tamilnadu09
Summary: She's his other half- in more ways than one. AU/AH. [Written for the D/E Holiday Exchange on LJ].


**A/N:** **this fic is written for the 2015 D/E Holiday Exchange on LJ. To Kate (aka thisismyescape) who asked for something angsty and "heartbreakingly beautiful." Happy Holidays!**

* * *

 _It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment when everything goes wrong. The moment that everything changes._

 _._

 _._

Damon didn't come from a broken home and he didn't have an unhappy childhood. He could still remember the warmth of his parents' smiles, their coddling, their adoration.

He was five years old, skipping down the stairs from his room when he tripped, clattering down half the staircase and falling with a bang onto the floor.

"Damon!" Lily ran into the hallway from the kitchen, her eyes wide with alarm. "Giuseppe, get in here!" His father, who had been in the process of pulling on a coat for work, dropped everything. Damon remembered the heavy footfalls as Giuseppe rushed towards them, yelling at them, asking what had happened.

Damon was lifted into his father's arms and plopped onto his lap, where he sat and bawled. His mother hovered next to them, wiping his tears, making _shh_ noises. "It's okay, honey, you're okay. Nothing's broken." Damon cried for a long time, until he was all cried out. He settled his face into his father's shirt, his eyes drooping shut.

A whisper behind him, "You're going to be late for work."

"Doesn't matter," Giuseppe's voice rumbled in his chest. "Nothing's more important than my son." He carried Damon back up the stairs and settled him into bed. "Let him sleep."

.

He was seven when they moved to New York. He scowled and pouted at having to leave his friends behind. He hated their new tiny house. He hated how loud everything was. He hated his new school filled with new people.

"It's not working," Lily's voice was a little over a whisper. Damon paused on the staircase into the kitchen, hiding in the shadows. They hadn't heard him.

"Well we're here now, so you'll all just have to learn to deal!" Giuseppe's voice was raised. "I'm sick of your attitude and I'm sick of Damon's!"

"Be quiet!" Lily hissed, "He'll hear you!"

Damon shrank back, silently moving back up the stairs and into his room. He stared at the wall, his lower lip trembling.

After that day, he didn't utter another complaint.

His father began smiling again and the arguments ceased. His job brought in more money, something that he was clearly pleased about.

November came and went, bringing with it the bitter sting of winter. Damon shivered as he sat at the kitchen table, watching snowflakes hit the window. They would lie against the glass, the tips melting and melting until only a teardrop was left in its wake.

Damon turned, distracted by a loud commotion at the front door. A second later, his jaw dropped when he saw his father hauling in a decent sized Christmas tree. "Whoa," Damon breathed excitedly, "It's so much bigger than the one we used to have!"

Lily walked in behind Giuseppe, carrying two straining brown bags of ornaments. Red and green glittered from the overflowing tops. She winked at him, "Who wants to help decorate?"

.

He grew to like it in New York. He was well-liked at his new school and he had made tons of friends. He was good at sports, good at school, and he fit in easily.

He was nine when he had a growth spurt. "Look who's finally tall enough to put the star on the tree," Giuseppe grinned broadly, handing Damon the bejeweled ornament in question.

Damon reached on his tip-toes, wobbling, stretching his arms until _yes_ the star slid perfectly into place.

.

He was ten years old the next time he overheard his parents arguing. Gone was the pretense of slightly raised voices; no, this time it was clear they didn't care who heard them, or perhaps they even forgot he was at home.

Damon walked to his bedroom window and cringed as several pedestrians walking past sent startled looks toward their house. His parents had apparently forgotten the windows downstairs had been left open to let in the unseasonably warm air.

"I refuse to attend that damn holiday dinner with you!" Lily screamed, "Why, so I can pretend to be the happy, doting wife?"

Giuseppe roared back something unintelligible. There was a loud thud, the sound of something breaking.

Damon stood up, but didn't move. He felt frozen in place. Their argument had subsided. He strained his ears but didn't hear anything else. He sank back down on his bed. His lower lip trembled again.

.

He woke up the next morning to the sound of his alarm. He groggily got ready for school, a vague feeling in the back of his mind that something felt off. He went downstairs and stood in the middle of the kitchen, frowning.

It was too quiet.

Almost mechanically, he left for school. Sure, it was strange that his mother hadn't been there in the morning. Though, not as strange for Giuseppe, who often left for work at the crack of dawn. Damon shrugged to himself, reasoning that his mother could have left early for work, too.

But he was distracted that morning in his classes. A speck of dread lodged itself somewhere between his heart and stomach, dragging him down. It happened in math class- a sudden whispering ebbing into silence. Damon glanced up as the school secretary, Rose, hurried into the classroom. His math teacher, Mr. Slater, looked up in surprise and rose to meet her near the door. They had a nearly silent conversation, with lots of hand gesturing. The entire class watched with rapt attention.

Damon watched as Mr. Slater shook his head once, covering his eyes. He cleared his throat, "Damon, you've been excused from class. Please gather all your things. Rose will escort you out."

.

A lot of words were thrown around. _Drunk driver. Killed instantly. So sorry._ There was a lot of apologizing. Damon stared at nothingness, not really understanding, not really accepting. But the truth was that he had known; from that very morning that he'd woken up in an empty house, he'd known.

An uncle that he'd never even met showed up. For the second time in his life, Damon was plucked up and moved, away from everything he knew, everything he had grown to love. This time it was to a little town in Nowhere, Virginia. Damon stared moodily out the car window. He bit hard on his lower lip.

It didn't tremble and he didn't cry.

"Here we are," Zach Salvatore announced, pulling into the driveway of what could only be described as a mansion. Damon squinted up at the looming building and frowned. His uncle glanced at him nervously. "I know this is all new and intimidating, and I know you don't want to be here with some strangers you just met but—"

"Daddy, daddy, is that him!?"

Damon turned to see a young boy come running out of the house, followed closely by an exasperated looking woman. "Sorry Zach," she apologized profusely, "Stefan ran out the door when I went into the kitchen to get a phone call."

"No problem," Zach answered easily, holding out his hand to the boy. "Stefan, I want you to come meet your cousin, Damon Salvatore."

"Salvatore?" Stefan repeated, looking awestruck. "Hey, he has the same last name as me!"

"That's right," Zach knelt down between the two boys and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "That's because you're family."

Across the street, unbeknownst to the new expanded Salvatore family, a young girl with dark hair peered out at them from her bedroom window. Her hand pressed against the glass as she looked upon the scene almost wistfully.

.

A year passed.

If Zach had been hoping the two boys would be the best of friends, he was sadly mistaken. Damon withdrew into himself, spending all his time alone in his room. He read. He drew. He wrote. Sometimes, when he was sure no one was home, tears streamed silently down his face.

December rolled around. Damon grew increasingly sullen, lashing out at anyone who dared to speak to him. Soon, no one did. At school, he was largely ignored. After the initial curiosity had worn off, no one paid much attention to him. He didn't reach out to make any friends, didn't join any clubs, didn't get involved in sports, didn't speak up in class. Mostly, he tried not to speak at all. His grades dropped massively until he was skating by on just the bare minimum.

His uncle couldn't seem to find the right words to say, until he, too, began keeping his distance. Stefan, the scrawny kid who daydreamed too much, wasn't winning any popularity contests at school either. Sometimes he would look hopefully at Damon as they passed each other in the hallways. Damon maintained a stony silence.

He walked into the house one afternoon after school and stopped dead on the threshold. A large Christmas tree stood in the corner, ornaments and lights glittering from every angle. Damon's eyes slid further up, to the shining star at the top.

He bit his lip so hard, he tasted blood.

.

December never got easier for him. He turned fourteen and started classes at the local private high school, Mystic Falls Academy. It hadn't escaped his attention that his Uncle Zach had a great deal of money stored away. Sometimes he wondered if that was why Giuseppe had never spoken about his older brother. Perhaps he'd been jealous.

Stefan, though a year younger than him, was smart enough to skip a grade. Damon walked silently beside his cousin as they entered their new school. He paused uncertainly as all eyes instantly swooped in their direction. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous Salvatores," a girl's voice drawled. Damon turned to see a brunette push herself off a nearby locker and sashay towards them. Even from a distance, Damon could see the bitchy smirk on her lips. She was very pretty, but even her overly done makeup couldn't hide the ice cold glints in her eyes.

"Infamous, are we?" Stefan asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Damon didn't say anything at all, hiding his own smirk. The days of Stefan being a scrawny pushover were long past him. In the last couple years, he had come into his looks—they both had.

"You are," the brunette practically purred, asserting herself between them with her hands on her hips. "Allow me to introduce myself—"

"Actually," Damon interrupted, "I don't think we care. Isn't that right, Stefan?"

"Sounds just about right," Stefan agreed.

Down the hall, a different brunette watched the scene. A small smile of amusement graced her lips.

.

Although he didn't actively set out to make friends, he made them nonetheless. Things got better, at least it seemed like they did. But little did he know, the thread had been silently unraveling this entire time. Things had been set in motion; things that he wouldn't realize until it was too late.

He didn't pay much attention to the girls at his new school at first. Most of them seemed to be made out of the same sassy quality as the brunette he'd met on his first day, and he instinctively knew he'd like to stay far, far away from _her_. Katherine Pierce, queen bee. Popular. Pretty. Personality like nails on a chalkboard. And she had a vindictive streak to match, if the rumors he heard held any merit.

He noticed Stefan started hanging out with a blonde, bubbly girl. Damon personally couldn't stand her, but he watched from a distance and saw how she made Stefan smile, come out of his shell. Watched how she made him laugh as they teased each other under the guise of light flirtation. And even though Damon would never outright say it, he approved.

On December 12th, someone slid an expensive looking envelope across his desk in English Lit. Damon stared at the blood-red cursive handwriting spelling out his name before looking up to see Katherine standing over him, a coy smile playing at her lips. "The Pierces are famous for our Holiday party every year," she informed him. "You and Stefan are both invited."

"What makes you think I'd want to go to this thing?"

"You will," she winked at him as she strutted back to her own seat. "You'll see."

Damon snorted to himself and tucked the invitation into the back of his notebook. He didn't notice the girl behind him as her gaze darted between him and the invitation. But then again, she was sitting behind him. As she had been for the entire time she'd known him.

.

"Please," Stefan begged him, " _Pleaaasse?"_

Damon groaned.

"Dad won't let me go unless you come too, and Caroline really wants to go. Come on, I'll consider this as your Christmas present to me!"

Damon looked up and narrowed his eyes at his cousin. "Really?"

Stefan nodded eagerly.

And so that was how Damon ended up at the very last place he wanted to be during the holidays. At a party. With people he didn't particularly like. Stefan and Caroline made an effort to include him, but he quickly ditched them and made his own way around the Pierce mansion. He had thought his Uncle Zach was rich, but this family really knew how to show off their wealth. Damon wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure they spiked the juice," Matt Donovan, the school's football captain, said with a grin as he nodded at the glass in Damon's hand. "Tequila, I think."

Damon nodded, not explaining that the drink wasn't the reason he'd had an unpleasant look on his face.

"So, Stefan and Caroline, huh?" Matt asked casually, nodding toward the two who were sitting close to each other on the couch, engrossed in their own private conversation. "You know, I've always wondered, how come you and Stefan have the same last name? You don't act like brothers."

"We're not," Damon cast a glance around the room, looking for the politest way to exit the conversation. "We're cousins. His dad was my dad's older brother."

"What happened to your folks?"

Damon, who had been staring at the larger-than-life Christmas tree in the next room, snapped out of his daze when Matt waved a hand in front of his face impatiently. "They died," he responded shortly, "Almost 5 years ago."

"Oh," Matt seemed to shrink back, looking embarrassed. "Sorry man, I didn't know."

"Did I hear that right?" Katherine suddenly materialized next to him, her hand over her heart dramatically. "Your parents died during the holidays? That's just terrible, Damon, I had no idea." She leaned towards him conspiratorially, pointing out a brunette girl sitting near Caroline and Stefan. "Elena's parents died near Christmas, too, poor girl. I just feel so bad for her."

Damon glanced at the girl she pointed out, who was sitting on her hands and determinedly not meeting anyone's gaze. She was sitting close enough to Caroline that he assumed they were friends. He frowned, wondering why she looked familiar. Maybe she was in one of his classes. As if she could feel his gaze on her, she glanced at him and her eyes widened slightly. She swiftly turned away, ducking her head. As she did so, he caught a glimpse of a bright red streak in her hair.

"Hi." He didn't know when he had decided to cross the room, or how he had ended his conversation with Matt and Katherine, but suddenly there he was, in front of the only person in the room that looked just as out of place as he did. "I'm Damon."

"I know," Elena replied, almost automatically. Then she flushed, biting her lower lip. "I mean, we have a couple classes together. I sit behind you. I mean, I've noticed you." She blinked, looking aghast at her rambling. She stopped, and noticeably composed herself. "I'm Elena."

.

They sat outside on the back stairs of Katherine's house. It was chilly, but the tequila had long since warmed Damon's insides. He was beginning to wonder if alcohol was also the reason he was sitting out here with this girl. "So," he cleared his throat, "How'd you end up at this thing?"

"Caroline, she pretty much forced me to," Elena sighed, folding her arms over the tops of her knees. "And then proceeded to spend all night talking to Stefan, of course."

Damon cracked half a grin, "Of course."

She tilted her head, studying him. "It's hard, this time of year. Everyone wants to party and be cheerful and happy, and I just..."

"Have to pretend," he finished her sentence for her and she smiled back at him, her lips tinged with the barest hint of sadness. Up close, Damon could see the difference in her, what made her stand out from the robotic girl clones from school. It was her eyes. They held warmth and emotion and understanding—everything that Katherine's didn't.

Elena nodded, absentmindedly pulling at the sleeves of her sweater. "No one gets it."

Damon hesitated, but then reached out and placed his hand over hers. He didn't say anything, but then again, he didn't need to.

.

She came to find him on the last day before Christmas break. He'd just finished his last final and was standing outside the building, waiting for Stefan. Suddenly, he became aware of someone standing next to him. He turned and looked down to see Elena smiling at him ruefully, "Merry Christmas."

"Such a wonderful time of year," he deadpanned, returning her smile. "How're you doing?"

Elena shrugged, "My aunt tries to understand, she really does. But..." She shook her head and straightened, "We actually have something else in common, you and I."

"Yeah?" Damon asked, intrigued despite himself. "What's that?"

"You came to live with your uncle and your cousin after your parents died," Elena stated, as though it was a known fact (which, Damon reasoned, after Katherine's party, it probably was). "And I moved in with my aunt and cousin after _my_ parents died. Crazy coincidence, huh?" Elena waved to someone and Damon turned to see a car pull up to the front of the school. "That's my Aunt Jenna," she told him, indicating the driver. "My cousin Jeremy is a year younger than me, so he's not in high school yet."

"Coincidence," Damon echoed, slightly taken aback. _How was it that this one girl seemed almost like...like his other half?_

.

Three days into the holiday break, his uncle knocked on his bedroom door. "Damon, there's someone downstairs to see you. Come down, please."

Damon frowned, sitting up in bed. "For me?" he called back, but distant footsteps told him Zach had already gone back down the stairs and was no longer within hearing range. "Great," he muttered, dragging himself out into the hallway and peering over the banister. A flash of red caught his eye and he stared down in disbelief. "Elena? What are you doing here?"

"Hi," she waved up at him, looking nervous. "I actually sorta live a couple houses down and I figured you wouldn't be doing anything..." she trailed off.

"Come on up," Damon waved her in. The whole thing felt surreal. _How was she in his house? How had she known he'd been thinking of her?_ Suddenly paranoid, he tried to catch her gaze as she entered the landing, but she wouldn't look at him. "This way," he said, pointing her into his room and belatedly realizing he probably should've straightened up before inviting her in.

But she didn't seem to mind. She wandered around his room, picking up frames along the way and studying the photographs in them. "Your parents," she noted, sliding one finger down the edge of the frame. "They looked like nice people."

"They were," Damon started, and then stopped. He could choose to only remember the good times, or he could choose to remember them for who they were. "The day they died, they had gotten into a huge argument," he blurted out, and Elena glanced at him in surprise. "They didn't argue a lot, only sometimes, like any other married couple. But this fight was different. My mom seemed furious and they were just flat out screaming at each other." His voice broke, "She didn't want to go to this holiday party at my dad's work."

Elena moved away from the window and came to touch his arm, "I'm sorry, Damon."

He wanted to say something else, but the words got stuck in his throat. Instead, he looked down at the hand on his arm and then looked back up at her. She had stepped close, closer than he'd expected. He could see the slight glistening of her eyes, the vividness of the red streak in her hair, the way her lips parted unconsciously under his gaze. He took a tiny step towards her, closing the gap between them. He lowered his head and she rose to meet him, their lips barely touching, hovering millimeters from each other. "Elena..."

She sighed softly, a tiny wisp of air hitting his lips before suddenly she was kissing him.

.

They grew closer as the months passed. Freshman year came to an end. They spent much of the summer together, exploring the town- and exploring each other. With his uncle spending the summer on numerous business trips, and with Stefan constantly at Caroline's house, Damon found that he more often than not had the entire house to himself.

Elena arched under him and he swore under his breath as she pulled him in deeper, her legs limbly tightening around his waist. "Fuck," he swore again, throwing out one hand to grasp the edge of his headboard. They moved in sync and she stared up at him, her eyes dark, pupils dilated with pleasure. He entangled his other hand within her hair, his fingers combing through the red streak. "I love this," he panted, moving the strands between his fingers. "Why red?"

The corner of her lips lifted, "I like to be a little rebellious sometimes." Before he could respond, she had flipped them over. Damon gaped up at her as she placed both hands on his chest, her hair falling into her face as she began riding him.

.

Damon turned sixteen a couple months into their sophomore year. "I don't want a party," he answered sharply when his uncle suggested the idea. "It'll just remind me of the two people who aren't here to celebrate it with me."

Stefan looked upset, "They would want you to celebrate your life, Damon."

"No."

"How about a dinner? You, Elena, me, Caroline?" Stefan asked hopefully, "Just lowkey, just the four of us."

"Don't beg," Damon warned, but it was too late.

" _Pleeease?"_

For as much as he and Stefan never became best friends, he had come around to seeing him as the little brother he'd never had. Damon groaned, "Fine."

.

They split up into pairs after the dinner. Caroline's mother was working the night shift at the station, so she and Stefan eagerly headed to her house. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Damon called loudly after them, cracking a grin when Elena playfully slapped his arm.

"Don't tease them!" Elena giggled, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the lake. "Come on," she urged, "I have a surprise for you." Curiously, he followed her further and further down the lake path until they had left the crowds behind and it was just the two of them.

She looked at him mischievously and dropped her purse into the grass. As he watched, she toed off her heels and slid her skirt down her legs. Damon's eyes widened as she then pulled her shirt over her head and shook her hair loose. "What are you..." Damon mouthed wordlessly.

She winked at him and then jumped into the water, "Come on, Damon! Live a little!"

He shook his head, laughing to himself as he hurriedly shed his pants and button-down shirt. "Alright, alright, I'm coming!"

She squealed in delight when he jumped into the water and purposely splashed her. "I'm gonna get you back for that!"

"Only if you can catch me!"

She threw her head back and laughed when she caught up to him and he grabbed her in his arms, spinning them both in the water. She looped her arms around his neck, and her face sobered slightly. "I'm so happy to have met you, Damon." She took a deep breath, "In fact, I think I lo—"

He darted in for a kiss before she could finish, and she moaned as his mouth closed over hers. His hands found her waist to draw her close, and when they finally pulled apart, both breathing hard, he whispered, "I think I love you, too."

.

When junior year began, Damon could honestly say he was happier than he'd been in a long time. Even as December loomed ahead of them, he didn't feel the pangs of loneliness or the pain of loss. Elena was almost always at his side.

Katherine, who had more or less ignored him since he'd started dating Elena, showed up at their lunch table on December 10th. "The annual Pierce Holiday Extravaganza is this Friday," she said to them flatly, "Here's your invitations."

Damon picked up the one addressed to the Salvatores. "December 13th? You're having the party on Friday the 13th?" He was about to crack a joke when he noticed that up close, Katherine looked dreadful. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"What?" she snapped, "I'm fine. Just be there."

Stefan arrived at their table just as Katherine was leaving. "What did she want?" he asked in surprise, "And why is she storming off like that?"

Damon shrugged, handing him the invitation. "Does your girlfriend want to go?"

"Caroline?" Stefan rolled his eyes, "When has she ever turned down a good party?"

.

The party seemed normal enough when they got there. "Let me get you a drink," Damon brushed a kiss onto Elena's cheek and made his way towards the food area. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Katherine angrily push someone out of her way and storm up the stairs without a backwards glance. Damon frowned and abandoned the drinks to follow her. Bitch or not, he knew from first hand experience that he wouldn't wish misery on anyone during the holidays.

He rounded the corner of the landing just in time to see her disappear into a room at the end of the hallway. He followed hesitantly behind her and found himself standing at the threshold of what looked like her bedroom. He cleared his throat and knocked lightly on the door, "Katherine?"

She whirled around, looking startled. Her surprise quickly gave away to anger. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He shifted from foot to foot, trying to come up with an appropriate response. "I know we're not friends," he said finally, "But you seemed upset."

Katherine straightened. For a second he thought he glimpsed regret on her face, but it was gone before he could identify it. "If I am, it's none of your business."

"Okay, fair enough," he held up both hands, "Sorry I bothered you." He turned to go, but she called him back.

"There's something you need to know, Damon. I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but..." Katherine picked up a folder that was lying on her bed. "You know Nik, right?"

"One of the Mikealsens," he nodded, not bothering to hide his disdain. "What about him?"

Katherine walked over to him, but looked hesitant. "He wanted me to make an announcement about this downstairs, but I'm not going to do that." She paused and then added under her breath, "To hell with the consequences."

Damon was about to ask her what she was talking about, but curiosity won out and he opened the folder first. He frowned as he stared down at a newspaper clipping of his parents' car crash. "Nik thinks I don't know how my parents died?" Damon shook his head, "They told me when it happened. A drunk driver crashed into them. Everyone died at the scene."

"The drunk driver and his wife," Katherine looked uncomfortable. When he looked up at her, he noticed she was digging her fingers into her forearms. "Umm did you know their names?"

"No," Damon replied shortly, "Why would I? They were killed and I couldn't get justice for what they did to my parents." Katherine didn't say anything and he angrily flipped to the next page in the folder, which was another newspaper clipping, this time a more detailed account of the accident. He scanned the article and a name jumped out at him. He stared at it, willing himself to see something else, anything else. "No," he whispered, "That's impossible."

"I'm sorry," Katherine said, and she looked it, too.

"No," Damon repeated, spinning on his heel and rushing down the stairs. The party became a dull roar in the background. He felt his heart thudding in his chest, could feel the flush of anger creeping up his neck. His ears felt hot, everything felt too hot. He pushed people out of the way without noticing, looking wildly around the room until he found her.

"There you are," Stefan said as he approached, apparently not noticing Damon's less than balanced current mental state. "Where have you—"

"Did you know?" Damon spat, throwing the folder at Elena. "DID YOU KNOW?"

"What?" Elena looked bewildered as the folder fell into her lap. "What is this?" He was breathing hard, too out of control to answer. Stefan stood up, looking alarmed. He raised one arm in front of Damon, almost as if he expected him to attack them at any moment. Elena looked beyond confused as she flipped open the folder and glanced down at the articles. "Why are you giving me these?"

"The couple," Damon's voice shook, the last thread of his control slipping out of his grasp. "The victims. Those were my parents."

"Okay," Elena said slowly, her face screwing up in concentration as she paid more attention to reading. "I knew your parents died in a car crash..." She stopped talking suddenly, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' of horror.

"Elena?" Caroline demanded, "What is it?" She looked scared, "What's wrong?"

The blood drained out of Elena's face. She stood up shakily, "No." She shook her head at Damon once, her eyes filling with tears. "I didn't know, I swear I didn't know!"

Stefan looked beside himself. "What the hell is going on?" He snatched the folder out of Elena's limp hand and threw it open, using his finger to scan the article. He muttered under his breath, "Drunk driving...killed instantly...driver's name..." He stopped reading. Over his shoulder, Caroline let out an audible gasp, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Gilbert," Damon snarled, his hands clenching into fists at sides. "Her parents killed mine."

.

He didn't come out of his room for the rest of the weekend. Stefan, his uncle, and Elena alternatively knocked at his door. He refused to see anyone. On Sunday night, there was an unpleasant wrenching sound from the door. Someone had broken the lock. Damon stood up angrily but Elena barged into his room before he could say anything. "You can't avoid me forever, Damon!"

He folded his arms and said nothing.

"You can't blame me for this," she argued in a low voice, "You can't blame me for something my parents did."

"I don't blame _you_ ," Damon snapped, "That would be stupid."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"I blame you for keeping this a secret! Don't tell me you didn't know, there was no way you didn't know!"

"I..." Elena shook her head, looking desperate. "I didn't, I swear." When Damon only glared at her, she shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Damon sat down at the edge of his bed, no longer looking at her. "I told you everything. I told you the anniversary of their death. I told you I came from New York. I told you it was a car crash. None of that rang any bells for you?"

Elena didn't reply.

When he looked up, a single tear slid down her face. "Just like you didn't know the name of the driver, I never knew the name of the people in the other car either."

"The victims," Damon growled, "Not just people in the other car. They were the _victims_."

She closed her eyes, ducking her head. "You told me about your parents, Damon. You told me how they loved you, how they were good people. You said they argued sometimes, you said your mom wasn't happy about moving to New York. You told me how you heard them fighting but you were too scared to leave your room. You told me a lot of things."

"I did," he agreed in a hard voice, "And I'm just now realizing how little I know about you." Damon stood up then, his eyes narrowed. "I never wanted to push you, I talked about my family because I thought if I opened up, you would, too. But you never did."

"That's because my parents weren't like yours," Elena's voice trembled. "John and Isobel Gilbert were terrible parents and terrible people. They didn't care about me, or anyone besides themselves."

Damon frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I was just a kid, but I knew. Isobel slept around. She would bring all these strange men to our house, even when I was home. And my father was a drunk. He was never around, and when he was, he'd drink. It was better to stay out of his way. I spent a lot of time at my aunt's house. With Jenna and Jeremy. They were my true family then, and they are now. Jenna formally adopted me after my parents died, but even then...she'd always been more of a mom to me than Isobel was."

"You've always lived in Mystic Falls," Damon said slowly, "But how come your parents were in New York that weekend?"

"Who knows," Elena replied dispassionately, "They would disappear sometimes for a day or two. They didn't tell me where they went and I didn't ask. When the police came and told me and Jenna that they were dead...well yeah, I was sad. I mean, they were my parents. I had always hoped that one day they would change and become like those loving families I see on TV." She swallowed and met his gaze then head on, "But I won't lie. There was a small part of me that felt relief, too."

Damon crossed the room to stand in front of her. "You always said you thought the holidays were depressing. You said no one understood our pain. That was all a lie?"

"No," she shook her head quickly. "The holidays always were a bad time for me, even before my parents died. All my friends would always be so excited when Christmas came around. They'd talk about all the gifts they were going to get, all the food that would be on their table, and about all the family members that were coming to visit."

She paused and took a deep breath, "I never got any of that. My Christmas would always just be me in my room. We never had a tree, no one exchanged gifts. Sometimes Jenna would try and sneak me a gift, but Isobel would never accept it if she found out. She hated Aunt Jenna." Elena snorted under her breath, "She always thought my dad, John, had a thing for Jenna."

"Did he?"

"Probably."

"Okay," Damon replied evenly, "I get why you didn't want to talk about your parents. I get that. But you haven't answered my question."

Elena sighed heavily. "I'm telling the truth, I didn't know it was them in the car crash."

"But," he prompted, because he could sense there was something she wasn't saying. Something on the cusp of her thoughts, something that she didn't want to say.

"But..." she nodded slowly, reluctantly. "But, yes, I suspected."

.

Damon slammed his locker shut harder than he'd intended. Exams were over and he was officially on holiday break. His uncle had decided to take him and Stefan on a one week trip to Chicago this year, and they were leaving this very evening. Damon tightened his scarf around his neck before stepping out into the snow. The forecast had predicted a blizzard was going to hit by the following morning. Luckily, the Salvatores would be long gone by then.

He hurried to the car and texted Stefan as he walked, telling him to meet him in the parking lot. Zach had bought him a car for Christmas this year, as though it was no big deal.

"Damon, wait!"

He recognized her voice but she was honestly the last person he wanted to see right now. "I'm busy," he said shortly when Elena caught up to him. "I gotta get home and pack." Over her shoulder, he could see Stefan hurrying towards them, his head bowed against the wind.

Elena's face fell slightly, "You won't be here for Christmas this year?"

He shook his head.

She shifted from foot to foot, looking unhappy. "Will you give me a ride home? Jenna said she's stuck in traffic near Jeremy's school."

Damon sighed, not really seeing a reason to decline. Elena, after all, did live on his street. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly, "The weather is pretty bad." He reached over to open the back door for her, and she flashed him a grateful smile as she got in. Stefan gave him a questioning look, but Damon shook his head, indicating he'd tell him the story later.

"I hope the airport doesn't shut down tonight," Stefan grumbled as they drove through the increasingly severe snowstorm. "I thought it wasn't supposed to hit until tomorrow, but this looks awful."

Damon peered through the windshield at the poor visibility and hoped so, too.

.

All flights were canceled for the next two days. Damon sighed as he sat in their living room, staring out into the whiteness of the storm. It was Christmas Eve. It was also the first year he had helped to decorate their Christmas tree.

Zach had handed him a poorly wrapped box earlier in the day. "It's not your present, but it's something that I thought you might like to see today."

Damon curiously ripped open the paper and slid the lid off the box inside. "The star," he said in shock, "From when I was growing up."

"I was going through some of the boxes in the basement," Zach told him with a smile, "And I came across some of the stuff we had brought back from your home in New York."

"Thank you," Damon said almost reverently, stroking the star. "I had thought it was lost forever."

"Go ahead," Zach indicated the tree next to them, "The top looks a little empty to me. Does it look empty to you, Stefan?"

Stefan, who had been leaning against the wall, nodded with a grin. "Go ahead, Damon."

Damon was tall, but their tree was taller. He reached up on his tiptoes and... _yes_ , it slid perfectly into place.

.

They were sitting around the fireplace that night, sipping hot chocolate, when there was a knock at their door. "Who on earth could that be?" Zach demanded, "In the middle of this storm?" He went to the door and cautiously pulled it open. The howling wind screamed. "Jesus, Elena," Zach jumped back and ushered her in. "I know you only live down the street but honestly! You shouldn't be out in this weather!"

Damon stood up in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

She hesitated at the entrance of their living room, looking unsure. "Sorry, it looks like I'm interrupting something."

"Not at all," Stefan leapt up, offering her his seat by the fireplace. "It's freezing out there. Come, sit. I'll get you some hot chocolate from the kitchen." He hurried away, not so subtly pulling his dad along with him.

She and Damon sat in silence for a few moments. "I'm sorry your flight got canceled," she said finally, "I know you were looking forward to getting out of here for a few days."

Damon shrugged, picking out a marshmallow from his hot chocolate and plopping it into his mouth. "Oh well. Maybe next year."

Elena nodded, casting a glance around the room as if searching for something to talk about. "The tree looks nice."

He turned to look at it but his gaze went straight to the star at the top and he smiled slightly. "Thanks."

She stood up abruptly and walked over to the fireplace, her back towards him. "I just came here to apologize, Damon. I'm sorry I never told you what I suspected. I didn't want to ruin things between us, I didn't want you to blame me for what my parents did."

Damon sighed, setting down his mug and rising to meet her. The heat from the fire warmed his side as he turned to face her. "I told you before, I don't blame you for what your parents did. That just wouldn't make any sense, and it wouldn't be fair. I'm not a complete moron you know."

"I know," Elena didn't even smile at his joke. Her eyes remained serious, her mouth turned down at the corners. "You're mad that I lied." Then she paused and corrected herself, "Or that I kept the truth from you, that I never opened up the way you did to me."

Her lower lip trembled. As he watched, she bit down on it. The action invoked a memory within him so powerful that he reached out to grasp her shoulder. "You never let me in," he corrected roughly, "When you were the reason that I was actually _happy_ for the first time in forever. You were everything to me. You..." He trailed off and then amended, "You _are_ everything to me." He tested the words out in his head first to check that they still rang true before he said his next sentence out loud, "I love you, Elena."

She looked startled and blinked through the gathering tears in her eyes. "Loved?"

"No," he refuted, staring at her fiercely, "Love."

Her shoulders slumped with relief, and he could almost see the tension easing out of her. "I love you, too," she sighed, and then her lips were on his, their tongues dueling together in a familiar dance. He kissed her hard, pouring all his frustration, anger, disappointment into it. And after a few minutes, the kiss became something else. It became about second chances and love; it became about family and friendships, it became about _them_.

"Merry Christmas, Damon."

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers. Their hands entwined together and he pulled her close, so that he could feel their hearts beating in sync. He smiled, a vague memory floating at the back of his mind. _His other half._ She'd always been his other half, now in more ways than one. "Merry Christmas, Elena."

 _xo_

 ***If you've read my stuff before, you'll know that I've tried out a different writing style for this one. I actually want to thank Kate because I hadn't written anything in such a long time (yes, I haven't abandoned my fics!) and this was the first time in months that I felt excited and inspired to write something. Be sure to drop a review and let me know what you guys thought! Happy Holidays!**


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